The Coffee Maker
by messed up stargazer
Summary: Funnily enough, the first time they have sex, Enjolras is in one of his old Guns N' Roses t-shirts and he's just taken an elderly lady home. Fem!Jolras. Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

The room was quiet as Nikolas Grantaire woke slowly. The first things he noticed was someone sleeping on his bare chest and that he wasn't wearing any other clothes. The second was that he was sore. Incredibly sore. Thinking this was one of his one-night stands, whoever she was she must have been absolutely fantastic, since he knew the feeling of his bed at once, he started thinking of ways getting her to leave before the girl realized he didn't know her name. But then he opened his eyes and saw a golden halo of curls and a feminine figure so perfect it seemed to be made of marble. There was only one person who could belong to such a figure. Julia Enjolras, the woman he had loved for three years, the leader of the Les Amis de l'ABC, his passionate Apollo (Yes, he knew that was a male god but the female goddesses didn't fit her at all so Apollo it was). How in the hell did he end up with her in his bed? And her with no clothes either, with her legs wrapped around his. So something must've happened. And then that bitch memory came back to him and last night seemed to unfold before his eyes.

_Dr. Larmarque had very suddenly died; heart attack. Since he was the only one there at the Musain at the time when she got the call, he had driven her to the hospital when Larmarque's wife had called her. He held her when she fought the nurses that Larmarque didn't really mean it when he signed the DNR order and that he needed to come back, please just come back. He kept her tightly to his chest as she seemed to go through the first four stages of grief at once. She started to attack him with whatever she could but only succeeded in going limp a few seconds later as she knew she couldn't bring back the man who had basically become to her a second father. When she pulled away, her face was empty and shattered and he simply led her to the car and strapped her into the back seat. She didn't seem to notice. He went back in for Mrs. Larmarque, as she had ridden in the ambulance, and offered to drive her home when she was finished with the paperwork. She thanked him and he stayed with her as she did everything the hospital required (much of the stuff he thought the hospital didn't need) and he led her to his car. Enjolras hadn't even moved. He drove Mrs. Larmarque home first, and surprising himself, he offered to stay with her if she needed someone. She thanked him but said she needed to be alone right now. He said goodbye, promised Enjolras would stop by sometime tomorrow to help prepare for the funeral and left her. He then moved Enjolras to the front seat and got back in the car. He didn't start the car though._

"_Enjolras?" He tried._

_His voice seemed to startle her. She turned to him, looking so lost and confused. She said nothing, only turned away looking utterly dejected._

"_Enjolras, I promise you this is pain won't last." Combeferre had once said that Enjolras hated useless platitudes. She needed something to hold onto, something to know. A promise._

_Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. He could feel her tears seep into his shirt, and her grip was almost painful. He hugged her back and kissed the top of her head. She cried for a few minutes before hastily composing herself and sitting back into the seat. She wiped her eyes furiously._

"_I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get your shirt wet." She mumbled._

"_It's all right. It's just water. Let's go home." He told her and finally started the car and drove to his apartment._

_Either she didn't notice that it was the wrong apartment or she didn't care as he led her up the stairs and down the hall. He fished the keys from his pants and brought her inside. The apartment was messy, bottles of beer and wine littered the floor, clothes were strewn about, paints and canvases seemed to decorate an entire wall and take-out food containers were in places he didn't even remember eating._

"_Um, I know it's not a hotel or as neat your place but hopefully you can find a clean shirt of mine to change into for some sleeping clothes." He shrugged._

_She nodded blankly and went to his room. He started brewing a pot of tea, and waited for her to re-emerge. When she did, she was wearing nothing but his old _Guns N' Roses_ t-shirt. It was much too big for her and went down to the middle of her thighs. She looked so small. When she saw he was looking at her, she tried for a smile and tried and failed to hide and yawn._

"_Take the bed. You need the sleep. You've had a long day." He told her._

"_No, R. You've done enough for me today. Driving me to the hospital and being… there. I don't mind your couch. It's really not too bad." She protested._

"_My couch is, and I quote, 'The worst thing I have ever sat on and how people manage to be comfortable is beyond me'." He mimicked her._

_She glared at him._

"_Please, Julia. Take the bed." He ordered._

_She bristled at the use of her "horrid" first name but when a sigh turned into another sigh, she nodded and headed back to the bedroom. Then he texted the others, updating them on what happened to Larmarque and that Enjolras staying with him and that she needed space. He got several replies of 'Tell her we love her' and 'Take care of her' and Combeferre asking if he should come over. Grantaire texted him back saying that he had early hours at the hospital the next morning and he had the day off tomorrow. He could tell Combeferre wasn't happy but he still relented and allowed Grantaire to take care of his greatest friend and 'sister'. He waited a little bit before the tea was ready. He mixed his with a little whiskey and sat down on the couch. It wasn't long before she couldn't keep her cries as silent as she wanted to. He merely drained his cup and went inside his bedroom. She was curled up into a tight ball, crying into her knees. He sat next to her and offered her a cup of tea. She took it and sipped it (she still tested any drink he gave her since he had tried to play a joke on her by giving her hard lemonade) before finding out that it held no alcohol and taking a deeper drink. She rested her head on his shoulder and openly sobbed. He very nearly missed the cup she dropped as she buried herself into him and he set the cup as far away as he could. He held her close as she bawled and started rocking back and forth. He started saying things but even he wasn't sure what he was really saying. It was just words. He doubted she was listening. He held her for what seemed like an eternity. Normally, he loved it whenever she deigned to touch him and though he greatly cherished the feel of her skin on his, he couldn't be happy she was touching him this time. She was broken-hearted and devastated. Combeferre should be here instead of him but right now he obviously wasn't going to move to call Ferre. He would have to be here for her as much as she needed him to be. It wasn't until he felt his mouth stop moving that he realized she was talking._

"_Why did he have to die, I mean yeah sure he was old but he wasn't that old, and he took care of himself, he shouldn't have had this happen to him, why did it have to be him… it's not fair. Did I tell you that he was my first class freshman year and when he saw how interested I was he invited me to his office to discuss politics and he taught me so much? I started showing up at his office hours every time I had a political question or topic for debate and we would spend hours on it. And now we can't do that anymore. It's just not fair!" She babbled._

_He kissed the top of her head every time she took a breath. Finally, her cries reduced to shuddering breaths but still she stayed in his arms. If anything, she pressed closer to him._

"_I'm cold." She whimpered. He wasn't sure whether it was her body temperature or her heart but he still rubbed his hand up and down the arm he could reach._

_In the next moment, he wasn't sure exactly what happened. He looked down to see if there was a blanket he could get her and she looked up for some reason with her lips out and they ended up with lip contact. He pulled back, fumbling over himself to apologize but she just kissed him strongly to shut him up. He kissed back to show his interest but he didn't want to take advantage of her right now. He could feel the tears still sliding down her face. So, though he wanted nothing more to make her scream his name and hold onto the rails of the headboard until there was nothing left of her, he pulled back._

"_We shouldn't do this. Especially if I'm the voice of reason here. I'm not exactly known for my good decisions. You're grieving and I'm way too sober to be thinking straight." He rambled until she grabbed his shirt with one hand and covered his mouth with the other._

"_I know what I'm doing." She whispered, her eyes half-lidded. If anything, it just made her sexier (if that was possible)._

_That was the only permission he needed. He kissed her fiercely and she pulled slightly on his shirt and they just sort of… fell into bed together._

Enjolras was good. Oh he remembered that. Oh fuck did he remember that. She was very good, especially for what he assumed was her first time. She was also exceedingly rough. He never would've guessed someone as composed as Enjolras could be that violent in bed. He could still feel her fingers in his hair, and his scalp could as well. She had dug her fingernails into his back and shoulders until he bled and he had pushed her so far into the mattress he was surprised they didn't break the bed frame. He knew he should be freaking out in the fact that he and Enjolras just had sex, but if anything, it felt right. He guessed it was because he loved her. Still he knew the minute she woke up she was going to scream at him because he took advantage of her and he shouldn't've given in so easily when she was clearly incapable of making such a decision especially because sex is a part of their relationship that was never going to happen. But even still he couldn't stop the smile when she shifted and nuzzled his chest. In sleep, she looked nothing like the god he always compared her to. Here, she looked like an angel. Beautiful, peaceful. The worry lines that came from too much schoolwork and just plain work in general faded from existence and she seemed to be more her age. Her hair turned into an actual halo of golden curls atop her head that glowed in tune with her ethereal skin. Poets from every age would kill to see even just a glimpse of such a woman as she in their lifetime. Sometimes he doubted even Jehan really could put her beauty into words. Since a picture spoke a thousand words, he reached for his phone in his jeans' pocket. He had to stretch a bit and he was pretty sure Enjolras moved but his task was successful and he managed to get a good angle and snapped a picture. And according to the phone, it was only six thirty in the morning. He couldn't remember being up this early before in the past two years. Well, when he didn't pull all-nighters.

"I'd tell you to take a picture since it'll last longer but it seems you already have." Enjolras remarked drily, sitting up with a cheeky smile on her face.

He stilled, going pale. But the smile didn't fade and the anger in her eyes he expected didn't come. Instead, a type of sadness he didn't recognize filled her eyes.

"Not very romantic, I suppose." She grimaced and pulled herself up.

He had been wrong. She wasn't going to be cross with him, she regretted what had happened.

If anything, this was worse.

"Look, I know, you don't need to tell me that I made a mistake. I shouldn't've given in to you so easily after you just lost Larmarque. You weren't in your right mind and I wasn't thinking straight. If you want, we can just forget this whole thing ever happened and you can go back to hating me." He said.

"I don't hate you." She replied simply.

That made him stop and confusion filled him.

"You infuriate me, R. You infuriate me with your drinking, your mockery of what we do, and your debilitating comments to my arguments. But I've never hated you. In fact, I'd like to consider you a close friend." Enjolras shrugged.

At his pause, she continued, "Grantaire, you inspire me. Yes, you do, don't interrupt me." He had tried to protest. "You do not believe in our cause and yet I seem to find you at every meeting and at whatever rallies don't clash with your classes and work schedule. You were there every time I've gotten arrested and if it hadn't been for you threatening the cops to sue them over harassment and battery I wouldn't have gotten out quickly as I did when someone brought that gun to the rally. You say you are hopeless and yet all of your friends are those who try to make a difference in this world. You listen to them, you sympathize, you drink together, and you give them hope. Yes, hope. Your hope combined with your cynicism inspires me to make my arguments stronger, to close the loopholes and to concede defeat when I know I'm beat."

"That's never happened."

"I said don't interrupt me." She snapped. "What I mean to say is I don't hate you R. I could never hate you."

He smiled sadly. "Still doesn't mean I didn't cave too easy to you last night."

"I told you I knew what I was doing. I thought you knew too." Fear, even a little bit, did not suit her.

"No, no, I did." He promised.

"I mean, is it how I pictured us having sex for the first time? No, but-"

"You've pictured us having sex?" He asked.

She laughed lightly, clearly embarrassed, stuttering. "Um, well, yes."

He laughed out loud at that. "Wow. Would you look at that? Sensitive, virgin Enjolras thinking about bedding me."

"Why does everyone think I'm a virgin? I would've thought that you of all people would realize I've had some experience in that area!" She groaned.

"Seriously?" Grantaire was agog. Grantaire was aghast. His precious virgin goddess wasn't a virgin?

"Yes! It happened in high school before I met any of you fuckers!" She shouted.

"Whoa! Since when do you curse?" He gasped. In all the years he'd known her, she'd never used words 'worse' than 'ass', 'hell' or 'damn'.

"I curse a lot before I have my morning coffee." She snickered.

"No, wait I've seen you at when we all spend the night at someone's place. Even then you don't curse." He responded.

"Yeah but even when that happens I'm always the first one to get up. It's me or Combeferre anyways and he's very used to me cursing the coffeemaker at five in the morning. I'm certain it's out to make me as late as possible every day of my life. It always breaks on the days I need it most." She said seriously.

"So that's why you show up with Starbucks most rallies!" He pieced together.

"Yes because even though Starbucks is over-priced and I don't like the child labor laws in the countries they make the coffee, I must say the coffee is pretty… bitching." She smirked.

"Oh those words coming out of a fine lady's mouth is just- oh…" He pretended to swoon, throwing one arm over his face and let his tongue hang out of his mouth.

She laughed. He used the arm over his face to hide his complete adoration for the sound of her laughter. It was light and lilting, much unlike the passionate seriousness that usually decorated her voice. Suddenly, she shivered, and he once again realized she was very much naked next to him in his bed.

"Um, R, if you could hand me my shirt. I think it's somewhere over there. I don't remember where it ended up last night." She blushed, obviously realizing the same thing.

He nodded and tried to reach one of the shirts from the edge of the bed while still keeping his waist underneath the blanket. Or rather the think piece of cotton he called a blanket. Still it was black enough to keep the 'view' hidden as much as possible.

"Oh my God, it's not like I didn't see all of you last night." She groaned and stood up and walked over to the shirt. She shoved it on without properly looking at it. Not only was it backwards and inside out, but it wasn't even hers. "Um, this… isn't my shirt."

"It's mine but you can wear it. Just turn it around. And turn it right-side out." He burst out laughing as she did as he said. She just glared at him as he tried to smirk at her but couldn't because of his sniggering. She smacked his arm, hard.

"Do you have any kind of coffee or coffee maker here?" She demanded, cheeks deeply pink. It made her ever so cute.

"I have a coffee maker but it's usually dead so I just mostly make instant." He said.

She stared at him in horror. "You drink _instant_ coffee?"

"Yeah." He stated.

"No wonder you're so hateful and cynical all the time! And you talk about the dregs of humankind! You're drinking the dregs of coffee kind! No one should be subjected to instant coffee! It's cruel and unusual punishment!" She yelped.

"I don't- I don't know what to say to that." He frowned.

"What's wrong with your coffee maker?" She demanded.

He shrugged. "I got it for three bucks at a garage sale. It worked for a few months and then it stopped being reliable."

"Why wouldn't you just buy an actual coffee maker from the store?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I live off an art students' salary. Which is to say I have about forty bucks to my name right now and I don't get paid until next Friday." He shrugged.

She stared at him, frowning intensely. Grantaire knew Enjolras came from money. Enjolras didn't have to worry about getting a job, her parents were extremely wealthy but still believed as she did and not only sent her a generous monthly allowance but also paid for her entire college tuition. She didn't have to do anything to stay in school except keep her grades up and not get into too much trouble.

"But I really don't mind instant." He said, trying to distract her from her thoughts. She couldn't frown in nothing but one of his old t-shirts and look incredibly sexy at the same time.

"Instant coffee is the scourge of humankind." She muttered and went into the kitchen.

He found what seemed to be a clean pair of boxers, and after a smell test were determined to be clean, and joined her in the kitchen. She seemed to be screwing with the filter biting her lip in concentration. He had to resist the urge to kiss her.

He checked the fridge for milk, he preferred making instant with it, and set about his task. The entire time Enjolras worked on the coffee maker he made a pot of instant coffee. He cleaned two mugs, since he didn't have any clean ones left, and handed one to her. In her intense focus, she didn't realize what he had given her and she took a sip. About two seconds later, she did a spit take worthy of those television shows like AFV or something.

"Treason! Treason of the highest order! How dare you give me such a poisonous thing as instant coffee! And here I was thinking you could be my confidant or even my suitor but I shall never trust a man who gives me instant coffee!" She shouted.

"Do you even know what you're saying?" He snorted with laughter.

"No I do not!" She slammed her hands on the table.

Unfortunately, he had been taking a drink just as she did so and he ended up inhaling some of the instant and he could _feel_ it running down his nose. He choked as she shrieked with laughter.

"Serves you right for giving me that disgusting shit!" She teased through her laughter.

"Don't curse. Freaks me out." He gasped as he tried to clean himself up. She just snorted with laughter.

All of a sudden, she stopped. Her face went from happy and serene to haunted and sad.

"I was wondering when it would hit you. Which is it? Larmarque or the fact that we slept together?" He asked calmly.

"Both I think." She whispered.

Do you need me to go? I can go." He said lightly.

"I don't care what you do." She murmured.

He nodded and started to get dressed, thinking he could run out and get some errands in before he would run out of money. He didn't need much food but he did need to get some Dawn to wash his dishes and some toilet paper. That would be about seven or eight dollars. Six if he went with the bargain brand of toilet paper. He could do that. He was getting paid in next Friday. Maybe he could ask his boss to bump it to Friday and not get paid again until next month. No, then he couldn't afford rent. If he didn't eat lunch this entire week, he could afford dinner throughout this whole fortnight. Maybe even get a new coffee maker. Which he told himself every time his budget came into question but he never did it. He didn't mind owning a broken coffee maker that only worked maybe one day a week. He was addicted to coffee just as much as he was addicted to alcohol but he didn't really mind. Coffee was a godsend sometimes. Maybe if he skipped the dawn til next payday he could get some of those new flavors he'd been eyeing. No, he needed clean dishes to enjoy new flavors. Until next payday then. Maybe if one of his paintings sold. Wait, he'd have to give one of them to the gallery and none of them were at all finished the way he wanted them to be. He could paint after the errands. He could use Enjolras as a model maybe, if she even noticed he was there. He doubted she would. Even if she did, he could use the picture on his phone. It may be a small muse, but it was a great muse nonetheless. Maybe he could even paint now. No, he needed to run the errands or else he'd forget them and too involved in his work. He'd done it too many times. So he needed to find something at least somewhat clean. Thankfully, he did own a strong deodorant so it maybe it could have a couple wears to it. Once he found jeans that didn't seem too dirty and a shirt that could easily pass as paint smell, he started cleaning himself up. He was surprised to see that he still had shaving cream left, he could've sworn Courfeyrac stole his last bit the last time he was here, and started his somewhat daily routine of getting ready for his escapades in the world of humans.

"I changed my mind, I do care whether you stay here or not." Enjolras suddenly appeared in the doorway.

As he wasn't expecting her to move for several hours, he jumped into the air and jerked his hands. He didn't know what was worse, the sting from the cut, or the absolute agony that the shaving cream did to the open wound.

"Fuck!" He screamed, and quickly wiped the area clear and tried to clean it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." She said.

"It's fine." He muttered and turned to her, using his body language to prompt her. Then, of course, he remembered he was talking to fucking Enjolras and she didn't understand body language as well as other people. "You were saying?"

"I do care whether you stay here or not." She repeated then stopped.

"Yes, I've gathered that." He stated, turning back to the mirror.

She finally got to the point . "I want you to stay here."

"Well this is my apartment." He teased. She frowned. "Yes, I can stay here."

"I don't think I want you to talk yet, though." She stated.

"I can do that. I'll just paint." He finished shaving and futzed around for whatever Band-Aids he did have. Once he finally one 'cut-face-while-shaving' size and stuck it to the still bleeding cut. He brushed his teeth, ran a quick comb through his inky black mop he called hair, and sprayed on deodorant. When he turned back, she was still there.

And then she was around his waist. It took him a moment to realize she was hugging him. He hugged her back awkwardly, completely at a loss for what to do. He wasn't Combeferre. He hadn't been her roommate since freshman year and he didn't know everything about her. He truly thought she hated him up until the point where she very obviously had sex with him. Even then he still doubted. After all, he'd had sex with people he hated.

"Thank you. For yesterday." She said quietly.

"It's my pleasure." He tried. Oh if only Combeferre were here. Hell, he would even take Courfeyrac or Jehan right now. They were better with people. Or, ooh, maybe Cosette. Cosette was wonderful when dealing with sad people.

As if sensing his thoughts, she turned to look up at him. "Why haven't I gotten any texts or calls asking where the hell I am and where I spent last night?"

"I texted everyone last night that you needed space. Combeferre would've come but he has the early shift today so he'll probably stop by after work if you're still here." He answered.

"Thanks. With everything that's happened, I don't think I could take everyone swarming us right now." She finally pulled back and headed back into the kitchen. She moved slowly yet gracefully, like mermaid underwater. He followed her quietly as she went back to her chair in the kitchen and she didn't move. He would've been worried if he hadn't seen Enjolras do this whenever she wanted to think long, hard and uninterrupted about something. The Les Amis lovingly dubbed it meditating whenever she did something like this. Deciding to take advantage of the situation, he grabbed an easel from his closet (why he decided to keep the easels in the closet were beyond him) and canvas and paint and such and he planted himself in front of Enjolras, where he could see most of her face but he wasn't full frontal. He spent the next three hours staring at Enjolras's face and seeing her as an avenging angel with pure black wings covered in blood, standing over so many dead bodies, looking up to the sky with so much regret in her eyes, basically pleading with the Heavenly Father to say that this needed to be done. Though the chest area he kept flat to help ease the transition to Michael that he would eventually do, since he doubted Enjolras would want to be the subject of this painting. This was painful, desperate and depressing. Enjolras shifted, even took to pacing for a while but he didn't pay much attention to her. Though he would never admit it, he could get just as absorbed in his work as she could. He had just finished sketching out what he saw in his mind when he noticed Enjolras was very close to him. She was probably trying not to startle him again.

"Yes?" He prompted.

"It's beautiful." She murmured.

"Oh it's not even close to that yet. I haven't even started on the color, just the outline. It'll look better soon. Well, maybe not soon, but sometime." He corrected her.

"No. It's beautiful now." She insisted.

He shrugged.

"I need to talk to you." Oh if that didn't make his blood run cold. She did end up regretting their night together and she never wanted to see him again and the one thing he truly believed in would be gone. He deserved it for taking advantage of her while she was grieving. She pulled her chair next to his and faced him head-on.

"I don't regret what happened last night. Well, I do in the fact that I didn't want it to happen like that, I expected a little more romance and something like that, but I don't regret the fact that it happened. Do you understand?" She asked.

He nodded slowly. "I feel pretty much the same. Though I expected much more alcohol on my part."

She snorted and he could see her shoulders relax. As if his spidey-sense went off, he went to check his phone and found a message from Combeferre saying that his shift had ended and he was going to Grantaire's place to check on/pick up Enjolras and that he was bringing a set of clothes for her to change into. He relayed this message to Enjolras.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to call him. I need to check on Mrs. Larmarque. She said she'd like me to help with the… funeral." The word itself seemed to pain her, as if it made what happened all the more real. In a way, he knew it did.

"Okay. You may want to put on your clothes. You're only wearing one of my old shirts and I don't think Combeferre will approve." He muttered, unable to meet her eyes.

"Oh. I should go- do- that." She stood sharply and he caught a wonderful flash of her perfect ass. He whistled at her. She threw one of his shoes at him. It hit him square in the chest, leaving a nice boot mark on his shirt.

"Apollo! This was my last clean shirt!" He yelled.

"Why don't you have any clean clothes anyway?" She shouted back.

"Because Laundromats are expensive and so is detergent!" He barked.

"Okay I know for a fact that Ferre and I have a machine, Courfeyrac and Marius have a machine and Musichetta, Joly and Bousset definitely have a machine for laundry in our apartments. Why don't you just use one of ours?" She re-emerged buttoning up her white shirt. Her jeans had been found, and the red jacket she never went without was slung over her shoulder.

"I don't ask for things, Apollo." He said simply, his tone very much indicating that was the end of the story.

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe Combeferre will stop at Coffee Bean or something. I need good coffee."

"Oh I'm sorry my coffee isn't up to your royal highnesses standards." He mock-bowed to her.

"I will throw the other shoe at you." She threatened.

"Please don't. My clothes are dirty enough." He said.

"Well, next time you can pop over to my place to do it. I don't mind you stealing our washing machine from time to time." He could tell she was trying to be blasé but she wasn't very successful.

He knew he would never take her up on her offer, though. "I'll think about it."

She pursed her lips but decided not to say anything else after a knock sounded. Enjolras let in Combeferre and he enveloped her in a hug. They stayed that way a long time.

"Well, O Fearless Leader, your ride is here and I need bathroom and kitchen supplies. Also, she needs breakfast. And coffee, since she is too picky for my instant." He stated.

Combeferre frowned. "Ride?"

"You have my car, Ferre. You always take my car when you have early shifts. And I need to get to Do- Mrs. Larmarque's house. I said I would help her with the funeral." Enjolras tried for a smile but couldn't do it.

It broke his heart to see his precious leader like this. Apollo was marble, untouchable and unbreakable. Strong, pure and proud. It was moments like these that reminded him she was human. He hated those moments.

"All right. Thanks for letting her stay last night, Grantaire." Combeferre smiled gently.

Grantaire nodded and headed out with them until they parted ways at his car. Enjolras gave him a small hug, before saying goodbye quietly and heading to her own car. He got behind the wheel of his tiny little Honda Element and smacked his head onto the steering wheel, calling himself a thousand named under the sun.

"She's never going to want to talk to you again! God, so much for actually having friends." Of course, they'll take her side of the argument. He was pretty sure _he_ was on her side.

His phone buzzed with a text. He steeled himself for Combeferre's 'You're never allowed to talk to her again' and instead found a text from Enjolras.

**Enjolras**: You didn't start your car.

Well, it wasn't much but he'll take it. He'd give anything to stay by her side.

**Grantaire**: I was just thinking. Getting my list all put together.

She responded quickly.

**Enjolras**: What are we?

**Grantaire**: Human beings. Wait a minute, you never said what happened to your virginity.

**Enjolras**: This is what you're asking about? Seriously?

**Grantaire**: Well, yeah. Even Combeferre doesn't believe you when you've said you've had sex.

**Enjolras**: That's his fault.

**Grantaire**: Yeah maybe doing this over text isn't such a great idea. Plus, I really do need to go to the store. I'll text you later.

He started his car and headed to the grocery store. Hopefully, Enjolras wouldn't mention it to Combeferre until they figured out what the hell they were supposed to do next and maybe he wouldn't lose all of his friends. It took him all of ten minutes to drive and find a parking space, so at least the gods of traffic didn't hate his guts today. He grabbed a basket and was checking out brands of dish soap when his phone rang. It was Combeferre.

Thinking it very strange, Grantaire answered, "He-"

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU SLEPT WITH HER?!" Combeferre's voice screamed at him. He was so loud that the few other people in the aisle stared at him.

"Where are you?" Grantaire demanded.

"I'm outside Dr. Larmarque's house. Enjolras is inside." Combeferre growled.

"Did she tell you that she knew what she was doing? Because that's what she told me." Grantaire tried.

"Yes, she did. But, come on, Grantaire! You should've known better! I mean, I know you love her and shit but seriously?" Combeferre ranted.

"What is it with everyone cursing this morning?" Grantaire remarked.

"Oh you very much deserve it!" Combeferre snapped.

"I still can't believe she told you. It's been like twenty minutes!" Grantaire said.

"She tells me everything, Grantaire. It was the first thing out of her mouth once we were alone." Combeferre retorted.

Grantaire wasn't sure what to say to that. So much for keeping some of his friends. Combeferre was incredibly persuasive and no one on his bad side stayed close to the Amis for long. He just picked the best bargain dish soap, even though he didn't know the brand, and moved onto the next aisle.

"Grantaire, I don't think she fully understands what she's done with you." Combeferre grumbled after Grantaire didn't answer.

"I don't see why you're freaking out. I've had sex with some of our friends before. I mean, I somehow ended up in bed with Courfeyrac on Halloween wearing nothing but Harry Potter glasses and a broom somehow between us. It didn't change anything." Grantaire defended.

"Yes, but this isn't Courfeyrac. I wouldn't be worried if it was anyone else. It's Enjolras." Combeferre reminded him.

"I know its Enjolras. I'm the one that had sex with her. Does Enjolras even know that you're calling me?" Grantaire asked as he checked the prices on toilet paper.

"Yes, she does, though I don't think she knows I'm yelling at you... Have you talked to her at all?" Combeferre asked after a long breath.

"I think she should deal with Larmarque before she deals with me. The funeral won't plan itself." Grantaire said, choosing the cheapest for the best amount and putting it into his basket and heading to the check-out.

"I know it won't but this will bug her until she unravels the mystery of it, especially with her feelings." Combeferre sighed.

"What feelings?" Grantaire found the quickest line and got in it.

"Grantaire, when have you seen her show any attraction to anyone?" Combeferre replied quickly.

"Well, according to her, she did have someone in high school. And I have to give it to her. If it was her first time, she is more skilled in that area than any virgin I've ever met." He commented drily.

A small gasp from behind revealed an elderly lady looking at him, scandalized. He simply turned back to see that it was his turn in line.

"Give me a minute, Ferre, I gotta pay for groceries." He mumbled and fished for the only ten in his wallet. Thankfully, he shopped as smart as any drowning in debt college student on a budget and the total only came out to about seven dollars. Granted, if he used up his two rolls in a week, he was screwed. Maybe he could ask one of his neighbors. Stuffing the change in his wallet, he grabbed his stuff and headed to the car. "You still there?"

"You seem awfully calm about this Grantaire." Combeferre noticed.

"It was no good to have the both of us freak out. She needs someone stable. I can freak out later. In fact, it's already in my schedule. I have it written in for three thirty to five." Grantaire threw his stuff into the passenger seat.

"All right, all right. I get it." Combeferre sighed.

"Look, I'm about to drive so I need to let you go. Keep me updated on Enjolras will you?" Grantaire asked.

"Yeah, all right. I should be heading inside too. I'll talk to you later. And we _will_ be talking later. Goodbye, Grantaire." Combeferre hung up.

Grantaire sighed. He could feel it in his bones. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys, so I know, I know I need to start updating Replaced Guitar Strings but with school and looking for a job and starting treatment for my depression I just haven't had the time to write something I don't gut the minute I see how it could work out. However, for some unknown reason, when I was rereading <em>Talk Revolution to Me, Baby<em> by truethingsproved (Oh my god, I freaking LOVE that story, it's amazing you should all read it) I started this and couldn't stop. ****truethingsproved thankfully approved of me posting this after using a few elements of the story for inspiration.**

**Leave a review if you can. It let's me know if you all want me to continue the story if I should just end it here. Goodbye, everyone and see you on the other side of the internet.**


	2. Chapter 2

He got a call from work as soon as he got home. He worked at a tiny but popular sandwich shop just on the outskirts of town for a polite but terrifying woman named Emma. She was pretty strict but cared very much about her employees. She had four kids, two of each, (though she often referred to having more through the childish acts of her employees) and knew her way around a sandwich knife. When he was new and naïve to Emma's sense of humor, she used to tease him about how many ways there is to kill a man with a butter knife. It wasn't until Mark, one of the other severs, had taken pity on him and said that Emma was only joking and half the ways she came up with came out of her ass. Though he now could laugh at Emma's jokes, he was still terrified of the woman. And, of course, whenever he told her, she just grinned and thanked him.

"Yeah, Em, what is it?" He said.

"R, please say you can come in today! Etienne is on vacation until tomorrow and Mark just nearly sliced his thumb off cutting roast beef! Please say you can come in today! I'll pay you! I'll pay you whatever you want!" Emma begged.

Grantaire just laughed. "I can come in today. Just give me a few minutes to get into my uniform, Em, you don't have to worry."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh I so owe you for this!" Emma said, sounding relieved.

"You know what? Just let me have first pick on the hours Mark'll have to give up for the next couple weeks and I'll call it even." He tried.

"What you want is yours." Emma hung up.

So he dropped off his stuff, changed, got back in his car and went to work. Emma seemed so grateful that she didn't tease him once. Since her other severs were out, he had to work a double shift but he didn't mind. Emma promised to add these hours onto his next paycheck and that was worth the exhaustion of working a double shift on his only day off. Then of course, about three hours later, Emma got a call from Mark, asking to be picked up from the hospital because his car was still at the shop. Because this was Grantaire, of course it was just starting to be the lovely fucking Saturday dinner rush. But he promised Emma he could handle it and made her go to the hospital. It was hectic and loud but he made a sandwich for every single customer asking for one. It seemed like an eternity passed before Emma got back from dropping Mark off at his house. But then somehow he and Emma made it until closing time and he was able to start choosing what he wanted for the next three weeks while Mark had his stitches in.

"Ah shit. I don't know when Larmarque's funeral is." He cursed as he starting picking.

"Larmarque?" Emma asked.

"One of the professors at school. He was Enjolras's favorite. She's helping to plan the funeral now, actually. Or rather earlier today." He replied.

"That's terrible." Emma hugged him.

"Oh I barely knew him. I'm an art major not political science or law. I just know what Enjolras says about him." He shrugged.

"Yeah but isn't she the one you're always talking about? The gorgeous one?" She inquired.

"Yeah that's her. She was basically his protégé." He answered.

"Poor girl. Here, I'll tell you what. When you find out when this funeral is, call me and tell me. I'll give you the day off so you can be there for your girlfriend." Emma said.

"Thank you Emma." He responded.

"What? No mopey little 'she's not my girlfriend. _Yet'_?" Emma teased.

"I don't know anymore." He sighed.

"What do you mean? How do you not know if you're together with someone?" Emma asked.

"Well, we may have sort of had sex last night and we haven't really talked about it since." He tried.

"What? Grantaire, why haven't you talked about it?" Emma interrogated.

"She's been dealing with the funeral for Larmarque and I've obviously been at work. You know your rule of turning off your phone when working. No we haven't had time to talk about it." He said.

"Well, call her! The store has officially closed so turn on your phone and call her!" Emma shoved him.

"All right, all right, already! Damn woman!" Grantaire went to his locker and got his phone out. He turned it on and saw fifteen messages and eleven missed calls, all from Enjolras.

**Enjolras**: Hey so we really need to talk.

**Enjolras**: About last night.

**Enjolras**: Or maybe not apparently.

**Enjolras**: R? Are you there?

**Enjolras**: Hello?

_One missed call._

_Several minutes later_

**Enjolras**: Hey could I call you? I really need to talk.

_One missed call_

**Enjolras**: Why aren't you answering?

**Enjolras**: Please, this is really important and Combeferre can't help. I don't know who else to call.

_One missed call._

_One missed call._

**Enjolras**: Please let me call you. The others won't understand.

_One missed call._

**Enjolras**: What is with you? Why are you ignoring me?

_One missed call._

**Enjolras**: Look, my parents don't want me to go to Dr. Larmarque's funeral. They said it will interfere with my studies. They told me that if I go that they'll stop paying for me to go to school.

**Enjolras**: Why aren't you answering?

_One missed call._

_One missed call._

**Enjolras**: (1/2) Was I just one of your one-night stands? Is that what you think of me now? That I'm just some girl whose name you can't remember? Don't think that I don't listen to you when you "brag" about your conquests to Courfeyrac! Am I just another one of those girls who put a 'notch in your belt'? Why did I think that last night meant something to you? This meant

**Enjolras**: (2/2) a lot to me. I mean, did we both make bad judgment calls yes, but I didn't think that you'd just cut me off. Why aren't you answering me?

_One missed call._

_One missed call._

_One missed call._

**Enjolras**: Fine. Grantaire fine. Ignore me. You were right. I do hate you.

"Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"I fucked up." He groaned.

"What do you mean you fucked up? C'mon. It can't be that bad." He handed her the phone. "Oh yeah. You fucked up."

"I didn't think to tell her I got called into work. It slipped my mind." He shrugged.

"Call her now!" She shouted.

"She should be asleep by now! It's past ten thirty!" He yelled back.

"Call her anyway! Whether you get a voicemail or wake her, apologize! That's what will fix this! Apologize! Unless she's right and she was just a one-night stand to you, fucking apologize!" Emma barked and stalked off, muttering about 'idiotic men' and 'horrible phones'.

He just sighed, locked the door, tossed the keys to Emma since she was opening tomorrow, and got into his Element. Deciding that Emma, who had a family and understood relationships between both sexes, was right and that he should always agree with her (and the fact that she'd kick his ass tomorrow if he didn't also weighed heavily on his mind), he called Enjolras. As he expected, she didn't pick up.

"Hey, Enjolras, it's me. Grantaire. Um, I haven't been ignoring you, at least not purposely. You see I got called into work for a double-shift and I really needed the hours and we can't have our phones on when we're at work, its Emma's rule, and I would've let you call me if I had my phone on me. Look, I'm really sorry. I wish I hadn't missed you. You were right we do need to talk about last night. Call me back when you get this. I'm really sorry, Enjolras. And I promise you're not just one of my one-night stands. It meant a lot to me too."

He spent the next two hours obsessively checking his phone for her response, or at least something to know she had received his message. No messages. No calls. He eventually fell asleep somewhere around three with his alarm set for ten. Still nothing.

The next morning immediately after his horribly loud and will-actually-wake-you-up alarm went off, he checked it again. One text message. Received seven twenty-three am.

**Enjolras**: When do you get off work today?

He replied faster than humanly possible.

**Grantaire**: Six thirty.

Luckily, she replied pretty quickly. Otherwise, he was afraid he might end up checking his phone so often that the damn thing would break from his giant thumbs.

**Enjolras**: Combeferre says I should give you a chance. Says it's an honest mistake. Prove him right. I'll be waiting at my apartment.

**Grantaire**: When do you want to meet?

**Enjolras**: Seven. Don't be late.

She had made it very clear that the conversation was over. So he just got ready for the day, threw a change of clothes into the car and headed out to work. Emma was waiting for him in the locker room.

"Did you call her?" Emma asked.

"Why, Emma, it's almost as if you care." He smirked.

"Answer me, you little shit! I won't have you be all distracted and mopey today! Did you call her?" She demanded.

"Yes, I did. We're meeting at seven at her place tonight. So I'll need to get off exactly at six thirty to leave with enough time counted for traffic." He answered and headed into work.

Though this was exactly what Emma wanted to avoid, Grantaire ended up being distracted the entire time he was at work. He knew he had royally fucked up, though he wasn't sure if it was entirely his fault and circumstances were just what they were, but even if he had to beg forgiveness of Enjolras for everything wrong in the world as if it was his fault, he'd do it. He loved her, he knew he did, and he loved their friends. Cosette was a wonderful bundle of joy who somehow wormed her way into everyone's hearts, even an old drunken cynic like his. Courfeyrac was a wonderful ladies man, who apparently took offense at the word 'wingman' because he said it meant that there were girls who weren't attractive and he always said that all people were beautiful and should be treated with respect. It wasn't just a pick-up line to him. That alone made Courfeyrac lovable and that was just the tip of the Courfeyrac iceberg. Feuilly was an amazing hard worker who still had time for everyone and their problems. Bahorel was the best sparring partner and he'd earned some of the black eyes he'd been given by the barrel of a man but that just made Bahorel even better. Bahorel was not afraid to punch him out if he got too out of hand, either drinking or… no just drinking. Joly and Bousset and Musichetta were an adorable couple (triple?) who just seemed to function as a collective unit and could make someone smile in a matter of seconds. Marius was a lost puppy who could only be described as 'Pontmercy'. Jehan knew enough poetry to write his own book and still somehow found more within himself. Eponine was a terrifying girl who could kill you just as soon as look at you but her laugh made it seem like she didn't care about her hard life and ragged clothes. Combeferre was the glue of the group, making sure everyone functioned well together, made sure his and Enjolras's arguing never got too out of hand, and was fiercely protective of the entire framily that they had amassed. He really loved them, knowing true friends for once in his life. He didn't want to lose them. And he certainly didn't want to lose Enjolras. Enjolras, the beautiful bombshell who could dissolve any sexist/racist/homophobic/conservative argument in less than a minute with a voice of steel and an expression of pure resolve. Enjolras, who so passionately rallied for the people she saw suffering in the world, in her own hometown and here at college. Enjolras, who was so kind and gentle to her friends (any friends not named Grantaire that is) and even allowed them to do things that no one could understand. One day she had come into the Musain with braids wrapping around her head so intricate that it must have taken hours for it to be done. When asked, she had simply said that Jehan had asked to braid her hair while she studied. Grantaire doubted she even noticed the feel of Jehan's hands on her head. It was moments like that, that really solidified his love for her. She was a beautiful person, in body and soul. He spent the entire day trying to figure out the best way to apologize and show her how he felt about her. He didn't come up with anything at all. But, he had to cut himself some slack. Enjolras was an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, covered in mystery. There were times even Combeferre didn't know how to talk to her.

At six o'clock, Emma suddenly shoved him into the locker room.

"You're of no use to me distracted, R. Go make up with her." Emma said.

Grantaire smiled and hugged her. He had changed and made sure he didn't smell too bad, when an idea suddenly came to him. Enjolras, above all things, liked paperwork. Well not like filling stuff out and shit, but she loved things in writing. They all joked that's why she became a lawyer, to see everything in the world in print.

"Hey Emma? Can you write out that you called me into work, with exact time and date would be nice, and say that it's sort of your fault that I missed her calls and texts?" He started out strong and then barely finished the sentence. It wasn't Emma's fault that he missed Enjolras.

But thankfully, Emma just nodded and scribbled something onto the back of an old receipt. He thanked her profusely, she shoved him again and he headed out. Thankfully Emma had released him when she did, because for some reason the traffic gods were now angry and he barely made it to Enjolras and Combeferre's flat by six fifty-five. He knocked and waited. Enjolras's 'Come in' wasn't loud but it was audible. So he opened the door, the flat's door was almost never locked, and he found Enjolras sitting at the kitchen table. Her apartment was much more lavish than his own, it had two rooms, a much bigger kitchen (if he was really being honest he really only had a kitchenette he pretended was an actual kitchen), two bathrooms, and a large living room. The kitchen table, which fit nicely in the common room, unlike his own that somehow always seemed cramped, wore a tablecloth, and had two dinners set on it. Chicken quesadillas. She gestured to the seat across from her, hopefully meaning the food was for him because it smelled delicious and he was starving. He sat down awkwardly, as she didn't seem to be looking at him and yet still found a way to see into his soul. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was in a messy ponytail. Her clothes were wrinkled and didn't seem to fit her like they should've. Her skin seemed sallow and gaunt, like she'd lost a lot of weight at once. Knowing her, she probably had.

"You look terrible." He murmured, trying to sound comforting.

"So do you." She snapped.

"Where's Combeferre?" He tried, hoping the roommate could be brought in to at least calm her down.

"Out. I didn't ask where." She stated.

Well, so much for that idea.

He nodded and waited for her to start eating. Finally, she figured that out and took a bite. The quesadilla was delicious.

"It's good. I love these things." He smiled, after he swallowed of course, trying to draw her out a bit.

"That's why Combeferre made them." She said.

That explained it. Every single one of the Amis knew to never trust Enjolras in the kitchen after she caught a bowl of cereal on fire. He hadn't been there for that but he believed it whole-heartedly.

"Tell him I said they were great." He said, trying and failing not to be as awkward as possible.

She didn't answer him.

"Um, here. I know you love things in writing and I even got my boss to sign it and shit, and I was hoping that you could at least believe her." He handed her the meticulously folded receipt from his pocket. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "This plan sounded better in my head."

Still, she took the paper and read it over.

"I don't know what to think about you anymore." She whispered.

"Neither do I. That's what happens when two people have sex when they're not in a relationship or an agreement of some kind." Agreement sounded better than drunken one-night stand.

She didn't answer him. Perhaps she wasn't ready to talk about this just yet.

"You said in your texts that your parents don't want you to go to the funeral. Did they tell you why?" He tried.

"They said that it would interfere with my classes. Which is ridiculous as I scheduled it to be on a Friday because I don't have class on Friday. I mean, not purposefully, but it helped. Besides, many people will be attending this funeral and I'm sure that my professors wouldn't mind putting the lectures online because their students are attending a funeral. A lot of the teachers will probably attend to so I doubt that the classes would be canceled too. And plus, missing one class won't make my grade drop from an A to a D. That's what they were acting like. My father absolutely refused to listen to me and then my mother had the audacity to say that he was simply looking out for me." She ranted, showing emotion for the first time since he arrived.

"Well, did you tell them that you're twenty-three now and they no longer control you as they once did?" He asked.

"Not in those words, yes, and they said that because they were paying for school and rent for both me and Combeferre that they still had some say in my life." She shuddered, making it obvious that there was more.

"And then you said?" He pressed.

"And then I told them that whether they liked it or not, I was going. And they said that if I went to the funeral that they would cut me off!" With those words, the damn burst. She started sobbing and he went to her side. He hesitated touching her since she never seemed to want to be touched but just having him being there seemed to be enough. "They said that they would stop paying for school and rent and food and everything! I can't afford to live here without their money! Neither can Combeferre! We'd have to move immediately and I don't know of any apartments that would take in one college kid with no job and another with an unpaid internship at a hospital! There's no way we could pay rent! There's no way we can afford food! The only reason we get by is because my parents send down a few hundred dollars down a month! That's what pays for everything! I'm scared, R. I don't know what to do without getting money from somewhere. I don't know how to budget! Combeferre does that. That's why I wanted to talk to you!"

"Because I know how to budget?" He asked, suddenly confused.

"No. Because you know how to survive after fighting with your parents like this. You said your parents disowned you and you made it! You've gotten to college and you're paying for it somehow." She replied, finally turning to look at him.

For the first time in his life, she truly looked terrified. He'd seen her scared before but never like this. This wasn't like scary movie scared, or even looking too long over the edge of a tall building. This was the kind of fear that couldn't be described in words. The absolute and overwhelming fear of losing everything. The fear that everything you worked so hard to build is crashing down around you and there's nothing you can do to stop it. This kind of fear snuck up on you and wrapped you up in bleakness and hopelessness so tightly you couldn't breathe anymore. This was the kind of fear that drove people to pills and very, very tall buildings.

"Does Combeferre know?" He hoped the medical student did know and had assuaged some of the law student's fears.

She put her head in her hands and shook her head. "I couldn't tell him."

"Okay. Not that I'm saying this is the thing to do, what if you don't go?" He tried.

"I couldn't do that. Mrs. Larmarque wants me to speak about how great of a teacher he was." She cried.

For a moment, she just blubbered into her hands. He wasn't sure if she was talking or just simply whining. Deciding she wasn't going to change positions anytime soon, he stood up and walked to the coffee table. Once he returned, he held up the box of tissues he had retrieved. At the noise, and slight pressure to her hands, she looked up and accepted the tissues as he handed them to her.

Once she cleaned herself up a bit, he said, "What if, and I'm not saying that this is what you should do, but what would happen if you told Mrs. Larmarque that you can't speak?"

"I already promised her. I even started writing it in my head when my parents called." She replied.

"Okay so that's completely out of the park. What if you say you didn't go but you did go?"

She shook her head dejectedly. "They'll find out. I'm a terrible liar and they're not afraid to spy on me. They've done it before."

"Wait, so they're not afraid to spy on you and yet they agree with you when you say that the government needs to stay out of our private emails and phone calls and stuff?" He asked.

"Actually, no. The only reason they allow me to keep up with the Amis and what we do is because you're my friends. If this was just a political organization without me having any "strong ties" to the group, they'd tell me to leave. They've told me so. But because you guys are kind of the only friends I have they go along with what I do. They don't want me to be lonely." She admitted.

He wasn't sure how to reply to that. He always imagined loving parents encouraging her to change the world from the minute she was born from the way she talked about them. He'd never imagine parents who kept their daughter on an extremely short leash.

"Is it wrong to still love them even though they've said this?" She whispered so low he almost missed it. Thankfully, the tears had stopped but that didn't do much to help her complexion or her expression.

"I would be concerned if you didn't love your parents anymore after this. They're going about it the wrong way but I do think, in their heads, they think they are trying to do what's best for you." He assured her.

She snorted. "That'd be a first."

He really wished Combeferre was here. Combeferre knew her better than any other Ami. He would understand her relationship with her parents.

"My parents come from old money, old politics. Have you ever noticed that when the choice comes for a politician to choose their child or their politics, they always choose the politics? It's an opportunity, actually. You see, what better way to prove that you're for this one thing that when your own children decide to go against you that you choose your _ideals_ and you cast them out. Then people will say, 'yeah that person really stands for this'. It's a manipulation tactic. I've seen it a hundred times. I just never thought they'd use it on me. They're usually wonderful people." She explained.

"I'm sorry." He said before he could stop himself.

She looked at him sharply. "What did you say?"

"I said I'm sorry. Your parents should spoil you instead if using you to achieve a goal. You're a beautiful person who deserves everything you could ever desire." He said surely.

She stared at him, long and hard. "Thank you."

"So do you have any other ideas to what you can do?" He said, trying to shift her gaze. Her stare could drill into your soul at the best of times. In the worst of times, it was like he was sacrificing his very existence to Apollo himself.

"No. I know I have to do this, but I know if my parents cut me off, I can't survive long. I'm not like you. I don't know how to live like you do. I wasn't taught that at any stage of my life. I wouldn't know what to do if my parents disowned me like yours did to you." She shrugged.

That wasn't entirely true but since tonight wasn't about him, he kept quiet.

"So you're stuck between a rock and a hard place." He muttered.

She nodded.

"Do you have a deadline? Like you need to decide by this date?" He asked.

She shook her head. "They just told me I couldn't go, wouldn't listen to me at all, and when I said that this meant a lot to me and please just listen they said if I went, they'd cut me off and then hung up."

"Well they can't hang up on you in person. Have you considered going to see them? I'm sure your professors would understand needing to go home right now." He presented.

"Oh I couldn't do that alone. I'd end up getting roped into making another commitment or something for everything I hate when my parents saw I won't be moved. It's how it worked in high school. If I tried to do something they didn't approve of, they made another commitment for me and told me it took precedence." She sighed.

"Who said you had to go alone? We could all go with you, I'm sure everyone would love to meet your-"

"No! There is a reason I keep my parents and my friends very far away from each other ! They will not like any of you. Well, maybe Combeferre because he's going to be a doctor and he's not a hypochondriac like Joly. But I'd bet good money that they'd find something wrong with him too." She quickly shouted.

"Haven't they met him?" He asked.

"No. Well, technically. When I'm skyping them sometimes, he's come on and he has their number for emergencies and vice versa but they've never actually met him face to face." She stated.

"Well, maybe it could just be you and someone of your choosing." He tried.

"I can't choose anyone. I won't lead any of you to a slaughter." She said.

"I'm sure they'll be polite about it if you have a friend." He said.

She shrugged.

"What if I go with you?" He offered.

"Why would want to go with me? To meet people who will tear you apart like you've been fed to a pack of starving dogs?" She said lifelessly.

"Because you're my friend. At least, I hope we're still friends." He swallowed hard. It all came down to this. On whether he'd have to go and find new friends or somehow manage to keep these.

"I really do hope so. If you don't hate me by now." She bit her lip nervously.

"I could never hate you. You're a wonderful friend. Maybe you're not a perfect human being and you can get pretty unpleasant when you argue, but once I figured out that you were just mad that my argument was solid in logic and made some sort of sense that you lashed out and it wasn't personal then it stopped hurting as much. I won't say it stopped completely because you can get pretty cruel and unusual sometimes but I don't think that you think that I'm a despicable human being. It's just my argument that is despicable." He said. Granted, he only realized that about a few months ago but it still counted for something.

"You'd really take a six hour train ride with me to make sure I can go to Larmarque's funeral?" She asked, as if she couldn't believe her own ears.

He couldn't believe his own mouth. "Right now if you wanted to."

"Well we couldn't go right now. There're no trains right now. It's late in the evening. It's… eight fifteen." She said, after a quick look at the stove clock.

"Well, maybe not right at this exact second. But I can call Emma and say I need to take you home to your parents for a couple days and she'll give me the days off and I'll pack some clothes and we'll head out. But for right now in this exact second I think you should finish your food. Otherwise, I'm sure that Combeferre will have my head. Or maybe some other part that will be surely missed." He gulped cartoonishly and she laughed a little bit.

"I suppose." She turned back to her plate and he returned to his seat. His thighs almost wept from relief. Crouching and kneeling next to Enjolras for over an hour was exhausting. He dug into his food while she just picked at her own. "You know, I'm not that hungry anymore."

"Yes, you are. Though, right now, you feel a little too sad to eat. But trust me. You are hungry. Eat a few bites and then once you've done that, if you're still not hungry, I'll eat it and say you did. Deal?" He offered.

She nodded slowly and did as he asked. It wasn't long before both quesadillas were devoured.

She blushed. "You were right. I was hungry."

"It takes much more energy to be sad than happy. That's why people eat more when they're sad. Like ice cream and chocolate. Because it makes us feel good." He stated with surety.

"And what _study_ are you quoting?" She teased.

"That's real life experience right there!" He said.

She just laughed at him.

"I'm sorry to bring you down again but I think Combeferre needs to be told about this. As much as I get this is your problem to try and handle, he could have good advice and solid logic. Plus, this really does involve him greatly." He said.

"I don't want to worry him. I can handle this on my own. I'll figure something out." She said.

"I know you will. But how you would you feel if the situation were reversed and he didn't tell you and you had to find out from some other source?" He asked.

"Like he didn't trust me." She sighed.

"Right. And I can guarantee you he's noticed your behaviors been different lately." He said.

She snorted. "Different is an understatement."

"What do you mean?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"I've spent the better part of the last two days after my parents called locked in my room crying when he can't hear me." She admitted lightly.

"Yeah. I promise he's noticed there's something off about you." He swore.

She blushed.

He bit back 'you're-so-cute-when-you-blush' comment. It wasn't the time. Not when Enjolras had such a heavy weight on her mind.

"So any idea when Combeferre will be back?" He asked.

"No. I didn't ask him where he was going or when he'd be back. Though I suppose he expected us to talk about the past two days." She sighed.

"I am sorry that I missed your calls. I didn't mean to make you mad." He apologized.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions that you were ignoring me." She countered.

"You were panicking. People who are in panic mode aren't exactly thinking the straightest." He replied.

She shrugged. He cleaned up after that. Or rather he rinsed the dishes preparing to wash them before she just grabbed them from him and threw them in the dishwasher. He almost cried at the dishwasher. When he was choosing an apartment, he had to forsake a dishwasher because it made the utilities skyrocket and he just couldn't afford it. Enjolras was not amused.

"Would you like me to stay until Combeferre gets here?" He asked.

"If you do go to work tomorrow, when do you go in?" She countered.

"I don't work tomorrow. I don't work Monday through Thursday normally. Though this next week I might work Tuesday because Mark sliced his thumb open and he won't get the stitches out until two weeks from now and he can't handle food until the stitches are out." He replied.

"So if I were to say let's go visit my parents tomorrow…" She trailed off.

"I'd say, let me call Emma to tell her I couldn't work on Tuesday and that'd be that." He shrugged.

She nodded then a knock startled them both.

"Are you two still talking or am I allowed to come in?" Combeferre's voice came from behind the door.

"You're good." Grantaire called out. "I guess this answers my question."

Combeferre didn't enter though. "Actually, you come out here, Taire."

"You want me to tell him? Or do you want to do it?" He asked.

"I'll do it. But you go see what he wants." She said, starting to prepare herself.

He nodded and slipped outside. Combeferre's glasses seemed to amplify the worriedness in his eyes.

"You two talk?" Combeferre asked.

"Yeah but not about what you'd expect. We still haven't breeched the topic of sex. Other things yes. Are we good from yesterday, yes. But not that bit." Grantaire said.

"What other things? You mean what's been bugging her ever since she got back from Dr. Larmarque's house?" Combeferre inquired.

"Yeah, see, I knew you'd notice. Don't tell her that. She thinks she's hidden that from you." Grantaire said.

"With Enjolras, hiding something is almost impossible. With her, she thinks she's being quiet, but she's a loud crier and we may have a nice apartment but we still have apartment thin walls. I just know better than to approach her." Combeferre sneered.

"Don't tell her that either." Grantaire added.

"Wait, you actually got her to talk to you? About whatever it is that's been bugging her?" Combeferre asked.

"Yeah." Grantaire stated.

"I couldn't do that. I couldn't get her to talk to anyone else for the past two days. How did you do it in an hour and a half?" Combeferre demanded, looking incredulous.

"I relate to this more than anyone else. I understand this. I don't just sympathize. I know. I've been somewhere close to it. She wanted my advice and I think I've given her some good tips." Grantaire explained.

Combeferre merely nodded and headed inside. Enjolras had moved to the couch and gestured for Combeferre to sit beside her. Grantaire just stayed in Enjolras's line of sight, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. Enjolras looked Combeferre straight in the eye as she told them of their possible predicament. For the first time in Grantaire's knowing him, Combeferre got angry.

"God this is extortion! They can't do this!" Combeferre exploded.

"Yes, they can. They're under no legal obligation to pay for our rent and my schooling. They do it because I'm their daughter and it's how they can exert some sort of control over me. Normally, I don't mind what they ask me to do but this obviously I have a problem with." Enjolras said, under her usual mask of composure.

"Enjolras, there has to be something you can do." Combeferre required.

"I'm going to travel to my parents' house tomorrow to talk it out with them and reach an agreement." Enjolras stated.

"Your parents are con artists. You can't go alone." Combeferre denied.

"And what makes you think she's alone?" Grantaire chimed in, in his best 'Geoffrey Rush' accent.

Enjolras just looked confused while Combeferre groaned, "Really? Out of all the movies you choose, you choose that one?"

"Johnny Depp is a gift to us all and all of his movies are wonders, no matter how bad they are." Grantaire defended.

Enjolras still just looked confused.

"Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End." Combeferre supplied.

Enjolras just shrugged, as if it no longer mattered. She didn't obsess over the amazing quotes of Johnny Depp movies, or any movies at all, like the others' did.

"All right, so you'll go with her. Do you know what you're doing? Her parents can be pretty monstrous. That's where she got her cruelty from." Combeferre warned.

"I know. I'll just run home and grab a change of clothes before we leave and-" Grantaire nodded.

"Do you have any clothes that don't have paint stains on them?" Enjolras asked suddenly.

"Um, maybe? I don't think so." Grantaire shrugged.

"Then you will borrow something from Combeferre. If I show up with you in paint-splattered clothes, they will not take anything you say seriously." Enjolras told him.

"Haters of art, huh?" He already disliked her parents and now this? Oh they were just sucking more and more.

"No, art they love. They buy it all the time. The actual artists, especially those who are going thousands of dollars into debt to make art, they don't like. They think art majors shouldn't be allowed anymore actually. Say it just makes homeless people and criminals." She said.

"Okay I hated them before but now? Now? This is unacceptable! Art is what gives people life! Art gives people an insight into their very souls! Are your parents ginger or something?" He overdramatized.

"Ginger I don't-" Combeferre started laughing before Enjolras could finish what she said.

"Rumor has it, ginger people have no soul." Grantaire explained.

"The funny part is Enjolras's father _is_ ginger." Combeferre chortled.

Grantaire burst out laughing.

"I still don't get this!" Enjolras shouted over them.

"I'll explain it later. Now bed!" Combeferre ordered.

"Bed? But it's barely nine!" Enjolras protested.

"And you didn't sleep at all last night! I can tell because those were the clothes I brought you yesterday when we went to Dr. Larmarque's house. You never change when you don't sleep. It's a bad habit of yours. Now get to bed!" Combeferre commanded.

"I'm not five! You can't just tell me when to go to bed!" Enjolras countered.

"If you don't get to bed by the count of three, I'm going to sick Grantaire on all of your speech notes and I will delete them from your computer! Don't think I won't!" Combeferre threatened.

Enjolras went pale.

"One."

Seeing the chance, Grantaire piped up, "I will! I'll do it!"

"Two."

"Fine! I'm only doing this for the sake of my speech notes otherwise, you wouldn't win." Enjolras objected but went into her bedroom.

"Thank you for that." Combeferre smiled gently.

"No problem. Happy to help." Grantaire grinned.

"And you get to bed too. You've had a long two days as well." Combeferre growled, a threat already on his tongue.

"I know better than to argue with you." Grantaire stopped him. Combeferre nodded, satisfied. "Goodbye, little, baby Enjy!"

"Combeferre, I'm going to kill you!" Enjolras shouted. "And goodbye, Grantaire, I'll see you tomorrow."

"You want to meet at my place or yours and at what time?" Grantaire asked.

"I will get up hours before you do and I will determine what train we will get on and I will drive to your house and wake you!" Enjolras yelled back.

"Fine by me! I'll leave the door unlocked for you!" Grantaire called and headed to the door.

"Do not think that what happened just outside the door counted as our 'talk'." Combeferre rumbled.

"I am still dreading it. I will fear you appropriately when this does happen." Grantaire said quickly.

Combeferre nodded and Grantaire had to swallow down his fear. Mamma-Ferre is a force to be reckoned with and it was not something he wanted to get on the bad side of.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow so guess who stayed up until past three thirty (that was the last time I looked at the clock) to finish Chapter Two? Meeeeeee! Help! At first I was all like 'I don't need sleep' and right now I'm like 'I really need sleep'. I think I'm to going to take a nap now.<strong>

**And I don't know why but apparently it's been decided that whenever there's a Modern AU that Grantaire seems to work at a café/deli/sandwich shop. Weird, huh?**

**Leave a review if you liked it. Or hated it. Or whatever. Goodbye, everyone and see you on the other side of the internet!**


	3. Chapter 3

Someone was kicking his mattress. He could feel the vibrations but decided that the vibrations weren't serious so he just shifted and tried to go back to sleep.

"Grantaire, get up! Or I will have to use methods no one likes." Someone shouted. He knew that voice but he was tired so he ignored it.

"I have coffee." The wonderful smell drifted into his nose but he just burrowed deeper into the pillow. Why couldn't whoever this was just let him sleep?

"All right. Don't say I didn't warn you." The voice said but he was already half-asleep so he no longer cared.

Suddenly, cold water was being dumped on his head. He jumped up and tried to blink the water out of his eyes. A blue blur was standing next to him. He wiped the water out and found Enjolras stand there with arms crossed.

"Wha- huh?" He mumbled, stupefied.

"Get up. I've given us forty-five minutes to get to the train station." Enjolras stated.

"What time is it?" He asked.

"Six in the morning." She answered.

"Why did you get me up at six in the morning?" He glared at her.

She was unfazed. "Because the train leaves at seven. It _is_ a six hour ride."

"Ugh, why did I agree to go with you?!" He groaned.

"If you don't want to come, you don't have to." She snapped, but he could read in her face the doubts that had started to plague her mind.

"I promised I'd come and I will. I just don't want to get up to do it." He sighed and threw off his covers.

Enjolras reached into her bag and pulled out a light blue button-up and pair of black slacks.

"I wasn't kidding when I said that you'd borrow something from Combeferre. It should fit. You two are roughly the same size." She handed them out to him.

He shook his head, took the clothes but set them aside. "If it's really six hours, I'll change when we get to your hometown. I'm not sitting on a cramped train for six hours in uncomfortable clothes."

Enjolras nodded, took back the clothes and pulled coffee from nowhere. He accepted it gratefully. She stepped into the living room so he could change into a t-shirt and jeans. Once he woke himself up, packed some clothes for a couple days, and prepared himself the best he could for meeting Enjolras's parents, he came back out to see Enjolras tapping her foot in annoyance. Now that he was well and truly awake, he almost couldn't believe what he saw. She was in a navy blue semi-formal dress. As far as he knew, as far as everyone in the Les Amis knew, Enjolras hated dresses with a fiery passion. She called them archaic reminders of barbaric social norms. Though she never criticized anyone for wearing one, Enjolras in a dress seemed impossible. It was a conservative V-neck with three quarter sleeves that just barely covered her knees. She had a messenger bag he'd never seen before slung over her shoulder packed to the brim and her shoes were silver heels, something else she'd never worn before. She wore light make-up (or a least he thought she was just because she looked a bit different and he knew she detested make-up because of the impossible beauty standards they appealed to to help sell their product) and a necklace. Her hair curled down her neck with definitive style, another first. Enjolras looked like she had actually put time and effort into her appearance.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" She demanded.

"Because you've lost your mind. Dresses are evil and shouldn't be forced down girls' throats anymore." He quoted.

"This is how I used to dress. I come from a very rich town. Most people dress like this." She shrugged.

"What, like every day? To go to school and the grocery store and shit?" He asked.

"Maybe not everywhere but considering the circumstances and when we arrive, we will be talking to them at work, so this is the proper dress code for such an occasion." She stated.

He just cocked an eyebrow and grabbed his keys.

"I'm driving. I know where we're going." Enjolras said as she walked out.

"It's the only train station in town. I know where it is too." He countered.

"Then sleep in the car." She dismissed.

"We have a six hour train ride for sleeping." He remarked.

"Why won't you just listen to me for once?" She asked.

"Why won't you let me drive?" He shot back.

"I don't trust your driving." She answered, but as she said, Enjolras was a terrible liar.

"Not true." He said with a tune.

"All right. It's easier to avoid talking to you when I'm driving." She admitted as she got into the driver's seat of her car.

"You could just say that you want it to be quiet." He tried.

"Perhaps." She said, and he realized that she hadn't thought of saying that. Well, Enjolras may have a way with words but a way with people was something she sorely lacked.

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" He accused softly.

"No. I couldn't. I was too worried." She confessed.

"It's not like your introducing your parents to your boyfriend." He said, trying to lighten the mood.

She didn't answer him.

"Just drive. We can discuss that later." He said, realizing his mistake. He still didn't know what they were. They had never answered that question.

The ride to the station started quiet. Unable to stand the silence, he put on the radio. Classical music started to flow through the car. He should've known Enjolras would listen to classical music. Suddenly, Enjolras groaned.

"I hate when Combeferre leaves the radio on this after he takes my car."

She changed it to a station known for its constant replay of seventies hits. Corny ones too. Songs like_ I've Never Been to Me_ and _The Pina Colada Song_. They were good songs but being played every hour did make them a bit more annoying than usual. It was not something he thought Enjolras would listen to.

"Through early morning fog I see  
>Visions of the things to be<br>The pains that are withheld for me  
>I realize and I can see"<p>

It took a few seconds for Grantaire to realize that Enjolras was _singing_. To _Suicide is Painless_ no less. He wouldn't have even thought this song would enter Enjolras's world. But he had to admit, Enjolras wasn't bad. She wasn't great, like pure talent, but she kept the melody and hit the right notes. Apparently, he was learning new things about her every day.

Once the song was over, he allowed himself a, "Huh?!"

"It's the theme song from M*A*S*H*. Don't you know it?" Enjolras asked.

"Yeah. Not from M*A*S*H* but yeah I know it." He answered. "How do _you_ know it?"

"Wednesdays from two to four." Enjolras stated.

"Excuse me?" Grantaire prompted.

"Wednesdays from two to four. My elementary school got out at one thirty on Wednesdays so I always made it home in time for lunch and a M*A*S*H* marathon. Mom and Dad loved the show so it was something we could all talk about at dinner." She smiled gently.

His own mouth twisted into a smile. It was obviously a fond memory for Enjolras. So he just let her enjoy all the corny songs from the seventies. He had other questions for her but since she wanted to avoid talking he'd let them wait. They had six more hours together. They arrived at the train station exactly at six forty-five as planned. Enjolras bought them both tickets while he stepped out to use the restroom though he tried to convince her to let him pay for his own ticket. Her response was only, "They haven't cut me off yet, Grantaire. I can pay for this." He had several arguments but the tickets had already been paid for and there was no use. Enjolras wouldn't accept him trying to pay her back. He'd have to buy her something in return instead.

They arrived at the gate five minutes before it was scheduled to leave. When Grantaire started to get in, Enjolras stopped him.

"You really think I'm going to ride for six hours in that cramped thing they call a car? No way. Come on." She rolled her eyes at him and he unsurely followed her to the front of the train. She found two seats in first class and sat down. He slowly sank into the seat next to her.

"Are we supposed to be here?" He whispered to her.

When she pulled the tickets out to check, he grabbed them from her. Two round-trip tickets in first class. These were expensive! He'd never be able to buy her something this expensive, not even over the course of multiple days!

"Why do you look like I've just kicked your favorite puppy?" She asked quietly.

"Enjolras, I… I can't-" He stuttered.

"Grantaire please let me do this for you. Especially after last night." She pleaded.

Intellectually, he knew Enjolras bought things for people. It was one of the few ways she knew how to show affection. He was at Feuilly's once and saw what very easily could've been an entire aisle the crafts store had for fan-making. Feuilly had said that Enjolras bought it for him for helping her with a paper about Poland during the plague. When asked, Combeferre had laughed and said that Enjolras wasn't sure what to buy so she simply bought everything they had. That had made sense to her. But to someone like Feuilly, who sometimes wasn't sure when his next meal was, to someone like him, that made no sense. Grantaire had never known money. Even when he was with his parents, they were still dirt poor. Which is why there were so many problems. Well, one reason why. His family had always been fucked up. But he didn't like thinking about such things, and Enjolras needed an answer.

"Fine. At least let me buy lunch." He tried.

"Oh no. If you can't afford a new coffee maker for fifteen bucks then you can't afford lunch in my hometown. Besides, my parents will buy lunch." She countered.

"How about a compromise? If you get cut off, I'll buy lunch on the way back." He snickered.

Surprisingly, she agreed. "Fine. But only if."

The train lurched to life and started on its way.

"Have you ever had singing lessons?" He asked, deciding to change the subject.

"I did. When I was a child. My parents demanded I learn some kind of music as it encouraged culture and it helped with finding interests and friends. Also, it kept me busy after school. That way I wasn't just sitting at home watching TV the entire time." She nodded. "Why do you ask?"

"You're good." He said.

"No, I'm not. I'm decent but nothing worth noting. I simply know how to follow a song." She dismissed.

"Still. Quite enjoyable." He smiled.

"Oh no. No getting any ideas in your head. I don't sing in public, I certainly don't do karaoke, and I don't sing covers!" She pouted.

"Courfeyrac?" He guessed.

"He overheard me singing 'Dancing Queen' when I thought I was home alone. I still don't know how I got him to keep quiet about it." She replied.

"'Dancing Queen'? What's with the seventies music? I had you pegged for a classical music or a forties music type girl." He said.

"I hate classical music. It's sweet and melodic, sure, but I prefer songs with lyrics. I like something you can sing and dance to. And not just waltzing either. Forties music is all right, I do really like the Rat Pack but it's not my absolute favorite." She responded.

"Wow. Who would've thought that you could dance? I would've thought the stick up your ass prevented you from bending over." He teased.

"Why does everyone assume I'm an uptight bitch who hates everything?" She asked exasperatedly.

"Because you act like an uptight bitch who hates everything around most people. Most people see you as a social justice warrior who refuses to hear anything from anyone. You decimate people's arguments and people take that personally. Also, you can't take a joke." He explained.

She turned away from him, pouting. He started laughing. Even pouting Enjolras was adorable. (Granted, having been in love with her so long, he would probably think her going psycho and killing people would also be adorable.)

"Don't laugh. Simply because I have a different sense of humor doesn't mean I can't take jokes." She growled.

He did his best to smother his laughter but it didn't really help. Enjolras was beautiful when angry. So a change in the subject was needed.

"So what do your parents do?" He asked.

"Oh they work for some big, stupid Fortune 500 company. Dad does some extra work in the government occasionally but not too often. That was more my grandfather." She said vaguely.

Guessing she didn't want to talk about it now, he dropped it. He'd find out soon enough anyways. Apparently, they _were_ going to see her parents at work.

"Thank you for coming, Grantaire. I know you didn't have to." She whispered, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Enjolras, I promise, there is nowhere I'd rather be right now." He promised.

She smiled, looking relieved and the train's conductor announced that the snack car was now open.

"Here. I'll get us some coffee and breakfast. How about that?" He offered.

"Oh we get that for free. They'll come to us." She shrugged.

He just went with that.

"I'm guessing you've never been in first class before." She murmured.

"Yeah. Could never afford it." He answered.

She hummed a response and handed him a menu. "Disregard the price. It's basically included in the ticket."

Holy shit. They had everything in first class. Free food, comfy seats, lots of leg room, and even concierge service. He could get used to this. If only his bank account could. And he had anywhere to go on the train. Unlike most of the others, he didn't have a 'home' to go to for the holidays.

Enjolras then pulled out a book and began to read. He waited until the steward came over and took their orders for coffee, eggs, toast and bacon before putting in his headphones. The very beat up old Creative mp3 player that had been with him for many years. It had been a gift from his mother when he was sixteen. They had actually been able to celebrate Christmas that year with actual presents. It may have been old and dirty but it was his and he treasured it above all his other possessions. 'Tainted Love' started and he waited for their food. Then his phone buzzed.

**Combeferre**: You two on the train yet?

**Grantaire**: Yeah. Six hours to go.

**Combeferre**: Can you make sure she gets something to eat? She skipped breakfast this morning.

**Grantaire**: I got food coming for us now. I'll get her to eat.

**Combeferre**: Thanks. Keep me updated on her will you?

**Grantaire**: Sure. Isn't this something she does though?

**Combeferre**: Yes. The fact that she's not means she's a lot more scared than she's letting on. There must be something else she's worried about.

**Grantaire**: How can she worry about something else? I know her teachers will excuse her from her class and she doesn't have a job. Plus the Amis will understand that she needs to go home and see her parents just after Larmarque died. She doesn't have to tell them that they're fighting.

**Combeferre**: I don't think it's that. Since apparently she talks to you, why don't you ask her?

**Grantaire**: Is that jealousy I detect, Monsieur?

**Combeferre**: I'll explain to the others. They'll probably call her throughout the day though. They're worried about her. She's completely cut off all contact with them. Not purposefully of course but I can only tell them not to pry for so long.

**Grantaire**: Right. And why am I going with her?

**Combeferre**: Because you were there. They all know you were there. So to Enjolras, it makes sense that you go. Plus you wanted to get out of class today.

**Grantaire**: It's a little insulting and terrifying that you know all of us so well.

When the food came, he watched Enjolras eat like a hawk. She noticed after a while.

"Is there a reason you're staring at me?" She asked.

"Yeah. Combeferre said to make sure you eat and I am more afraid of him than I am of you." He answered lightly.

"Ugh. He acts like I can't take care of myself." She groaned.

"Do we need to have this conversation again?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"I am not incompetent when it comes to taking care of myself." She repeated.

"It's not that you're incompetent, but as you said, it's not a priority. So he worries. You can't lead a revolution from a hospital bed." He said.

"I suppose not. Will you text him and say that I have eaten my breakfast thoroughly?" She asked sardonically.

He just gave her his phone. She sent a quick text and handed it back.

**Combeferre**: Don't yell at me because you don't ever eat anything.

He just laughed. The relationship Combeferre and Enjolras shared was often hilarious. They'd only know each other for three years, same as most everyone else, but the two had become like family the day they met. Every Ami knew the story. Enjolras had been given the wrong room number to move into in her dorms and ended up being moved into a dorm with two other boys who had moved in a day earlier. Combeferre and Courfeyrac. She had completely hit it off when the boys helped her move in and saw her collection of books. It got better when they saw they had two classes together. The next day, the boy who was supposed to move in arrived and somehow Enjolras convinced him he would be better off in the dorm he was mistakenly designated. (The fact that he would be one boy with two women obviously helped.) After that, the three seemed inseparable until their sophomore year when they all moved out of the expensive and cramped dorms and Courfeyrac found a cheap apartment and a naïve, innocent Pontmercy to share it with. Though with the fact that Courfeyrac spent a lot of time at Combeferre and Enjolras's apartment, sometimes it was like he'd never left them. But it was with Combeferre who Enjolras really hit it off with. He was the one who got her to eat, sleep and remember. To be honest, when he first met Combeferre he was certain he was going out with Enjolras. When Combeferre had denounced this, Grantaire hadn't believed him until Enjolras blew up at him saying she and Combeferre weren't dating. She apologized later, saying she shouldn't have acted so harshly and she bought him a sandwich to make it better. It had been a good sandwich.

"R? Grantaire? Hello?" Enjolras was saying.

"Oh sorry. Got lost in thought I guess. Yes?" He answered.

"Does your cell phone connect to the internet? Mine doesn't and I forgot to email my teachers saying I wouldn't be at class." She asked.

"I'm sure your professors wouldn't mind you ditching a couple days. I think everyone at school knew you two were close. It's a small school." He assured her.

"That wasn't my question, R." She glared.

"Yes it connects to the internet." He handed her back his phone.

She spent the next ten minutes typing away at his keyboard and just as she finished, her own phone rang.

"Hello… yes, hello Jehan… really I'm okay… I just need to go home for a couple days…didn't 'Ferre tell all of you I'm not going alone… R's with me… no I haven't killed him yet… well obviously he hasn't killed me since I'm talking with you, idiot… really, Jehan I'm fine… I promise… I'll be back soon… of course I'll be back in time for the funeral, what am I stupid… sorry, I didn't mean to snap… I know… yes, I love you too… I will… bye.

Jehan says hello and that he's not helping you bury my body."

"Damn, I really was going to need his help. Guess I'll have to find someone else." He muttered.

She smiled gently and then went back to reading. He put his earbuds back in and closed his eyes. After some time, maybe about ten songs, he felt something crash against his shoulder. Startled, he turned to see what it was. Enjolras, her book hanging loosely from limp fingers, sleeping soundly. He pushed her up slightly so he could move the armrest in between the two seats and slide a little closer to her. With this newfound room, she snuggled into the crook of his neck and he pried the book away from her, marked its place and settled back down to continue listening to his music. He knew he wouldn't sleep, even in the extremely comfortable chairs because the train moved too much. All public transportation moved too much for him to fall asleep. He didn't like things that vibrated or rattled when he was trying to sleep. He didn't trust them, or it, or whatever.

Speaking of vibrating, Enjolras's phone rang again. Grantaire accepted the call before it woke Enjolras.

"Hello?"

"Grantaire? Why do you have Enjolras's phone?" Bahorel asked loudly.

"Quiet. She's asleep. And you know the rule." Grantaire reminded.

"I know. Whoever wakes her must not only deal with the wrath of Enjolras but that of Combeferre as well. I know." Bahorel groaned.

"And I am not brave enough to face that. You know me. I'm a big chicken." Grantaire even bawked a couple times to add emphasis.

"When it comes to Mamma 'Ferre, everyone is a chicken." Bahorel laughed. "Is she okay?"

"She will be. Going home will be good for her." He half-lied.

"Are you okay? Dealing with her?" Bahorel inquired.

"She's not herself so it is easier. The fact that she's not herself makes it scarier, that's for damn sure, but she's much easier to be around. Less angry. More sad." He answered, glad to answer something truthfully.

"When she wakes up, tell her we miss her, and we'll do whatever she needs for her to be okay." Bahorel said before ending the call.

As if on cue, his phone rang the next minute.

"Hello?"

"Why are _you_ going with her?" Courfeyrac demanded, sounding angry and upset at the same time.

"Because she wanted me to. She wants to do this by herself and I can just find a place on the sidelines to stay in the shadows." He half-lied.

"Didn't she trust the rest of us?" The fact that Courfeyrac really meant him didn't go unnoticed.

"It's not about trust, 'Fey. It's about doing what's best for Enjolras right now." He replied.

Courfeyrac sniffled miserably. "It's just not fair. She's been so upset lately. Combeferre has been texting me with updates but he kept forbidding me from coming over. I always make her feel better when she's crying. Why do you get that now?"

"Because I was there, Courf. I drove her to the hospital, right now I'm a pretty constant force in her life. Combeferre said she wants me to go because she doesn't want to be alone but she doesn't want to constantly talk about her feelings. And since I never do that, this all works out." Grantaire responded.

"I miss her." Courfeyrac mumbled.

"I know. But she'll be back soon. Hopefully, she'll be a little better after she comes back. It'll be okay. You'll take care of her when she cries after she's talked to her parents." He said.

"You're going to see her parents? You lucky bastard. None of us get to meet her parents. Even Combeferre hasn't really met her parents." Courfeyrac sulked.

"Well, that's kind of up for debate. I might just say hello and catch a taxi to a bar or something." Technically it wasn't a lie but it wasn't that much of a truth. God he hated this. But if Enjolras wanted secrecy, that meant lying.

"I suppose. Tell me what they look like, will you?" Courfeyrac asked, and Grantaire knew he was forgiven for being the one Enjolras let in.

"I will. I'll sneak a picture to you guys." He chuckled.

"Good. Because I've known her ever since the day she got here and I still don't know what her parents look like!" Courfeyrac grumbled loudly.

"Hey shut up. Do you want to wake her up?" Grantaire hissed.

"She's asleep? Shit why didn't you tell me?" Courfeyrac demanded, his voice barely audible.

"Well I answered her phone." Grantaire said.

"Dude, I called you. On your phone." Courfeyrac stated.

"Well, I'll be damned. You did. I knew that. So yes, she's asleep. She's quite comfortable on my shoulder." Grantaire replied after looking at the phone in his hand which was indeed his.

"You are a big, lovable teddy bear under all the alcohol and cynicism." Courfeyrac mused.

"I am not! That's Bahorel." He teased, making Courfeyrac laugh.

"I guess. So if you're not a teddy bear, you're a marshmallow. That's it! You're a burnt marshmallow. All hard and crunchy on the outside and warm and gooey on the inside! Perfect! That's the new way to describe you, I'm sending that to everyone we know." Courfeyrac bubbled with excitement.

"I swear to God, you send that out and I'll destroy you. I'll tell Enjolras you were the one to forget to put the lid on the coffee pot that day." Actually, no one knew who had forgotten to put the lid on the coffee pot that day but it still ended with second-degree burns on both Bousset and Musichetta. Enjolras had not been amused when they all had to make a trip to the ER.

"You wouldn't." Courfeyrac murmured.

"I would. I am not above petty revenge and I will wait until the time is right to exact said revenge." He threatened.

"All right, maybe not everyone we know." Courfeyrac conceded.

Knowing that was the best he could get with Courfeyrac, he dropped the subject.

"I know Larmarque wasn't as close to you but are you okay?" Grantaire asked.

"I want to be with Enjolras right now. She needs me." Courfeyrac said. Which was Courfeyrac-speak for he would draw comfort from comforting Enjolras.

"You want me to wake her up? I know she wants to talk to you." Grantaire whispered.

"I want you to but let her sleep. She's probably slept like crap since." Courfeyrac sighed.

Actually the night they slept together she seemed fine but Grantaire only said, "Yeah I know she needs it."

"You okay?" Courfeyrac inquired.

"Yeah. She's not that heavy." Grantaire whispered.

"All right. I'm going to let you go now." Courfeyrac finished. "I got class."

"All right. Have fun. Take notes so Enjolras will be satisfied." Grantaire said.

"I will. Take care of her, Grantaire. I mean it. She needs someone strong right now. She'd better be okay when she gets home." Courfeyrac hung up.

He put his phone away. Courfeyrac's last comment stuck with him. He didn't know if she'd be better when she got back. If her parents cut her off, then she might not be willing to go back to school at all. But hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. Enjolras told wonderful stories about her parents. They were at every school play, every debate team match, every big event. They were supposed to be very supportive. He thought they were. Enjolras may not think so, but he really thought Enjolras's parents were trying to look out for her. Or maybe just her image. Given the fact that they did some work in the government and from Enjolras's stories obviously image meant a lot to them.

As the time passed with him only listening to music, he found he grew quite bored quite fast. Music is great and all but he couldn't dance, he had a sleeping Enjolras on him, he couldn't sing, he had a sleeping Enjolras on him, and he even couldn't nod his head to the beat, other passengers were already giving him looks like he shouldn't be there. He didn't mention that he agreed with them and he was only here to appease Enjolras. It would've ruined his defiant looks back. Just because he wears comfortable clothes covered in paint doesn't mean he couldn't belong in first class. But still the problem was, he was bored. Seeing Enjolras's book, he figured he could at least stomach this. Knowing her, it was probably homework or a book about old laws. However, the book was old and worn, with a cracked spine and notes all over each page. Detailed descriptions littered each page with highlighted quotes and underlined and circled words. It was years of analysis crammed into the margins and chapter breaks. Some of the notes blended into each other and you could see some of the eraser marks of words that had been there for days, weeks or even years that were mistaken or unintelligible. You could see where she ran out of room and had to find another place to continue writing. This was a loved book, a favorite beyond perception, and his heart warmed at the sight. He hadn't even bothered to look at the title because he thought it was going to be a boring read. _To Kill a Mockingbird_. He'd heard of this book. He read it maybe once when in middle school or something. It hadn't stuck with him like it so obviously did Enjolras. So he decided he'd go over some of her notes. After all, it couldn't hurt. It wasn't like he was reading her diary. The first thing that caught his attention was one quote that she had highlighted twice, in two different colors, with an underline and circles around each word. "As you grow older, you'll see white men cheat black men every day of your life, but let me tell you something and don't you forget it - whenever a white man does that to a black man, no matter who he is, how rich he is, or how fine a family he comes from, that white man is trash." Squeezed into the margins were the words, "Most important quote, nothing has changed, this still means so much, Lucy is trash because of this, freaking perfect cheerleader who needs to stop putting so much make-up on, she looks like a prostitute, I shouldn't be able to come up with examples for this, not now, not ever, too much racism in our world." He flipped back and saw another page with a quote that was extremely gussied up. "It's when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what." Some of the notes consisted of things like "beyond racism, beyond social justice, like doing that stupid role in the school play, I really hope I don't pass out on stage, fixed trial, Atticus knows Tom'll get convicted, nothing he can do but tell the truth." Who was Lucy? Why would she pass out on stage? Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this was like reading her diary. Enjolras was a very private person and he'd never seen her write in a journal. This book was probably her journal. Her life story written in the margins and chapter breaks. He was so tempted to keep reading, to see what her life was like before she came to school and so obviously changed. Enjolras performed speeches to the entire school and she once had stage fright? It seemed delicious. He really wanted to see what other insecurities and fears she hid in the analysis of this book. But, he knew if he did, then it would be just as bad as reading her diary. Reading something that wasn't his to read. But there was something else that caught his eye. It was someone else's handwriting. It couldn't have been Enjolras's, even from previous years, the a's and the l's didn't match up. Also it was in pen, something Enjolras hardly ever used since it couldn't be erased. Even some of the analysis had been erased around this mark. "Hey, love! Remember we've got that science test tomorrow so study! Oh and my parents said it was cool for me to come to your place so I can tutor you! Oh if only they knew. See you at three! Love you!" Okay. He was so meant not to read that. That was something between Enjolras and whoever this was. Taking a guess, he thought it had to be a boy's handwriting, seeing the hard-pressed pencil lines, and the jumbled writing compared to Enjolras's elegant script. Thinking of Enjolras having friends before the Amis was weird. She had been so alone when she came to college. They often asked her how she kept in contact with the kids from her high school. She simply said that she didn't. Whether or not high school was a good time for her was up for debate. She had nice parents, according to her, and she did have friends. She just never spoke to them again. But considering Enjolras, that seemed normal. Enjolras dealt love and cruelty without any difference between the two. As they all loved to say, Enjolras is a great young woman capable of being terrible. Since they never said that to her face, he wasn't sure whether she agreed with that. He did.

But since, even after all that thought, he was still pretty bored on the rumbling train and so he decided to reread the book and do his best to ignore Enjolras's little notes unless they had nothing to do with her personal life. The hard part was all of her personal notes were mixed in with the analysis. So even though he craved for more insight into who Enjolras was when she was younger, he wouldn't touch those notes with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole. Or at least he tried to. Sometimes even though curiosity killed the cat, the cat still went out to see what was so dangerous. Even though he probably shouldn't have looked, he found out that Enjolras knew someone named Dustin Adkins who she called a Scrooge(which he felt was a bit hypocritical since Enjolras didn't celebrate winter holidays like most people) and compared to Link Deas which he couldn't understand. He got a very nice guy vibe from the character and saying someone was a great guy and also a shrewd moneylender was odd. But if anything, it was so very Enjolras. He also learned that her favorite line was "People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for, and they have the right to subject their children to it, but I can assure you of one thing: you will receive what you see and hear in silence or you will leave this courtroom, but you won't leave it until the whole boiling of you come before me on contempt charges." The notes on the pages were so close together and overlapped so often he couldn't read them. Pen marks were written over by pencil and years of age and wear seemed to show. The binding of the book seemed almost undone by how many times she'd pressed on it in this certain position. The chapter break was a sardine can filled with so many words it would almost burst. He was surprised she kept writing after everything became unintelligible. Whatever it was, it must have meant a lot to her. But since he doubted she'd be happy he read the book at all, he wasn't going to ask even though he was burning to know. However, there was someone he could ask.

**Grantaire**: Hey, have you ever read her copy of To Kill a Mockingbird?

**Combeferre**: No. Why?

**Grantaire**: Oh. I thought you had. She brought it with her.

**Combeferre**: She brings it everywhere. I'm not surprised.

**Grantaire**: Well, she's written in it.

**Combeferre**: I know she has. Is there a reason you're asking?

**Grantaire**: I may have read some.

**Combeferre**: What the book? It's a great book. She loves it.

**Grantaire**: No her notes.

**Combeferre**: I didn't think you'd be able to read through all of that analysis.

**Grantaire**: Well only some of it is analysis. Some of it is a little like a diary.

**Combeferre**: And you kept reading?!

**Grantaire**: I was bored and this is the only book I have access to.

**Combeferre**: You idiot.

**Grantaire**: Look, I asked because I was wondering if you knew some of her favorite quotes and I was wondering why one was so important.

**Combeferre**: She may talk to me more than anyone else on the planet, but the fact remains that Enjolras is still an extremely private person when it comes to anything to do with before she came to college. I know Enjolras better than anyone else, but there are some gaps in even my veritable libraries of knowledge about her.

**Grantaire**: That's a hell of a way to say she and I may talk but she doesn't tell me everything.

**Combeferre**: I'm doing an essay right now and as much as I understand the reason why, I've run out of things to talk about. It's pharmacology and I can't find much on the topic I've been assigned. So I'm afraid I must take a leaf out of everyone else's book and writing out words that I could condense to try and boost me over the page limit.

**Grantaire**: Is it working?

**Combeferre**: Surprisingly, yes.

**Grantaire**: And you call us slackers.

**Combeferre**: Doing that for every essay is slacking off and not fulfilling your potential.

**Grantaire**: You know, sometimes I wonder if you're just someone who spouts off all this holier-than-thou bullshit and has a secret life that nobody knows about and would be so ashamed to say we know you if we found out.

**Combeferre**: Well, if I do, I obviously can't tell you, can I?

**Grantaire**: Shit. Does this mean I'm your next victim?

**Combeferre**: If I were to have a secret life, I would not be a serial killer.

**Grantaire**: THAT'S JUST WHAT A SERIAL KILLER WOULD SAY! DON'T KILL ME! I WON'T TELL THE COPS ANYTHING!

**Combeferre**: How's Enjolras?

**Grantaire**: Asleep on my shoulder. She's been this way since about forty-five minutes into the trip. I'm probably gonna wake her up soon. We're almost there and I need to change clothes.

**Combeferre**: Why can't you change yourself?

**Grantaire**: One- Ew. Two- the bag is under her feet and I can't move it without disturbing her. Or move myself because she's adorable and comfortable and I'm trapped.

**Combeferre**: I see. Have coffee ready when you do wake her. And send me updates about when you get there and find her parents and all that jazz.

**Grantaire**: You got it. Ttyl.

He flagged down a hostess and ordered a cup of coffee. She nodded with a bright smile on her face, he silently wondered how these people didn't break their faces trying to smile so often, and a few minutes later she returned with coffee, cream and sugar since he didn't know how Enjolras took her coffee. He gently shook his shoulder, trying to jostle her awake. That didn't work.

"Enjolras. Enjolras." He tried. "Oh God, get up. We're almost there. I have coffee."

Nothing.

So he simply set the coffee, sugar and cream out of where they could spill, and quickly stood up. Enjolras fell against the seat and jerked awake.

"Jesus! What was that for?" She groaned.

"You weren't getting up. I need your bag. I need to change. We're about a half an hour out." He said, presenting her with the coffee, cream and sugar.

"Fine. Because you have coffee, I forgive you. Besides, I need to make a call." She handed him the messenger bag and he pulled out the 'proper' clothes Enjolras packed for him.

He slipped into the bathroom and wormed his way out of his own clothes and into Combeferre's. Thankfully, Enjolras was right and he and Combeferre were roughly the same size. The shirt sleeves were a little short but when he rolled them up, it made it look like a three-quarters shirt so it didn't seem too noticeable to him. Hopefully, Enjolras would approve.

He went back to their seats and found Enjolras still on the phone.

"Thanks a lot. And you won't tell them? It'll be a surprise? Good. I'll see you soon. Bye." She hung up and he came back into her line of sight. She motioned for him to spin around, which he did, trying to keep an eye on her face. Her expression was neutral yet her eyes were filled with a strict standard he doubted he could meet. But when she smiled a bit, hopefully it wasn't too bad.

"Why'd you roll up the sleeves?" She asked.

"Because Combeferre is shorter than I am and they were too short." He answered.

"Hmm. All right. Sit down. We've still got a bit to go." She ordered.

"So anything I should know before we go meet your parents?" He inquired.

"Try not to curse, it's not polite and they're not that cool. Um, it's better to tell a half-truth than a lie, Dad's basically a lie detector which is really ironic, also don't mention the fact that we had sex, Mom and Dad are blissfully unaware that I'm sexually active. They're really nice people, I swear, it's just sometimes when they set their eyes on something they put on blinders and they don't realize it." She rambled.

"Enjolras, I'm sure they're great. All parents have failings. Cosette's dad is way too overprotective, and he's one of the nicest people we know, right?" He reminded her.

She nodded. "Yeah, Jean is a good man."

"And Marius's grandfather can be a piece of work but he still tries to do his best for Marius. And Joly's parents don't quite understand his hypochondria and I don't think they ever will but they still try. All parents have failings, yours are no exception. But just because there are parts of their parenting that suck doesn't mean they're bad people or bad parents. Obviously watching M*A*SH* was some really great memories for you and your parents knew it could connect you and them. And from what you've told us, your parents sound great. Which is why we all want to meet them. Maybe we won't agree with their politics, like we do with Marius's grandfather, but if you speak highly of them then we know you wouldn't lie to us and they're good people. Understand?"

"Thank you." She whispered.

"Don't mention it. What do they like? Their music taste, movies, tell me about them." He tried.

"Mom's like me. She adores seventies music and she's the worst dancer. Don't tell her I said that. Daddy is a closet musical lover. He'll always pretend that we're making him go and stuff, but he'll enjoy every second of it." She started.

"Is that why you got into theater?" He asked before he could stop himself. Shit, now she was gonna know he read her book. Oh why did he have to pick up that book? They were doing so well!

"Yeah. Also it was because I was in choir and we didn't have many theater kids who could sing. Those singing lessons I told you about? Well, they were put to use for the school musicals." She nodded, completely missing that she'd never told anyone about that before.

"You were in school musicals?" He asked, completely dumbfounded.

"Two of them. Kiss Me Kate and Chicago. I was terrible in both of them." She laughed lightly.

"Oh really? Well I think I've found some lovely conversation starters for your parents. Who did you play? Please pray tell." He grinned.

"Don't you dare. I swear to God I'll make you pay for that. I was one of the gangsters in Kiss Me Kate and the Hungarian in Chicago." She grudgingly admitted.

"Why were you a gangster? Aren't those supposed to be guys? And don't they tap dance?" He inquired.

"Yeah but we ran out of guys. So I played a guy. And yes they are supposed to tap dance but nobody knew how to so instead trying to teach us we just tapped really badly on purpose. It made it funny apparently. I didn't understand it." She explained.

"I can picture it perfectly." He smirked.

"Breathe a word to anyone about this and I will castrate you." She growled.

"Isn't that cruel and unusual punishment?" He teased.

"No. That punishment fits the crime." She said, completely deadpan.

He gulped.

She smiled mischievously.

"Oh look this is our stop, let's go." He said quickly and grabbed his backpack. She checked and rechecked that she had everything and they headed to the exit. Enjolras thanked the hostess for her service and they got off. Together they walked out.

"Hey do you want me to go get us a cab?" He asked as they were approaching the entrance/exit.

"No I've got us a ride. I don't take cabs unless I have to." She shook her head.

He followed her outside to the loading area. Suddenly, he couldn't take his eyes off something. There, an Aston Martin was waiting with an older gentleman waiting beside it, getting the attention of most everyone around it. It was a fantastic piece of machinery. Enjolras was walking straight to it. That couldn't be her car. She had to be going to the one next to it or something. She couldn't drive an Aston Martin. The car she used for school was a Honda Civic.

"Miss Julia! What a pleasure to see you!" The older dude called to them, having a noticeable British accent.

"Hey Jeeves! I've missed you!" She grinned widely and hugged the man.

"Jeeves? You have a chauffeur and his name is Jeeves?!" Grantaire demanded.

"Who is this?" 'Jeeves' asked.

"This is Grantaire, a friend from school. And yes, my family has a butler and chauffeuring is one of his duties and no his name isn't really Jeeves. But Daddy always called him Jeeves to tease when I was younger and so I called him Jeeves and the name stuck." She explained.

"My name is Reginald, sir." 'Jeeves' supplied.

"Reginald? Did your parents know you were going to be a butler? Can this get anymore cliché?" Grantaire exclaimed.

Enjolras gave him a good smack to the arm. "Get in the car."

He ducked his head, rubbed his arm and did as she said. She followed in quickly.

"Don't forget to buckle up!" Reginald smiled.

"You have a butler. And you call him Jeeves. No wonder you don't talk about your home life much. If Courfeyrac got a hold of this, you'd never live it down." Grantaire remarked.

"Where are my parents having lunch today?" Enjolras announced, very loudly changing the subject.

"They're having lunch at Descartes today. Reservations are scheduled at one forty-five. I've already made the correction for there to be four seats. I'll swing by and pick them up." Reginald said.

"Fantastic, thank you Jeeves." Enjolras chirped. Then she hissed in Grantaire's ear. "Don't tell anyone. Please."

"I always knew you were rich but I didn't know you were this rich." Grantaire mumbled.

"That's what you're focusing on?" She asked.

"Sh. Still processing."

She just laughed at him.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh my God. I've really got to stop this. Constantly staying up so late just to finish one of these chapters is very unhealthy. I'm sorry it's been such a long time. But with Thanksgiving and finals coming up, it seems I can only write very late at night while studying. So I'm going to bed. Goodbye, everyone and see you on the other side of the internet.<strong>


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